


An Invitation He Couldn't Refuse

by BuckinghamAlice



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon does his very best to distract Illya from an important call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Invitation He Couldn't Refuse

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/130038370650/imagine-person-a-talking-to-someone-on-the-phone) prompt from the otpprompts tumblr.

Napoleon Solo did not appreciate being ignored. He especially didn't appreciate it when the person ignoring him was supposed to be salivating at the sight of him, on the edge of his seat and ready to beg, if need be, for a chance to be with him. Illya had been flirting with him all day, giving him looks, had invited him here at least twice… and now here he was, and there sat Illya.

Only Illya seemed to find a telephone conversation more interesting than Napoleon.

And honestly, he couldn't have that.

But knocking the phone from Illya's hand would be too dramatic, and could easily lead to him passing on sex. Unplugging it from the wall would yield the same results, and Illya knew too many of his tricks… Napoleon wouldn't be able to pass it off as an accident.

So he decided to lure him off the phone the best way he knew how. He slipped out off his shoes and pulled off his socks; Illya had yet to look up. He then loosened his tie and slowly peeled off his jacket in the most tantalizing manner possible.

“Right,” Illya was saying. “Tunisia.”

Napoleon shrugged. He must have been talking to Waverly. But if this was about the assignment in Tunisia, it could wait… they weren't even leaving for another day and a half. He pulled his tie all the way off and draped it across Illya's shoulder. _That_ should get his attention.

Illya raised his eyebrows and looked up at Napoleon, but he seemed to ignore what was going on. “Right,” he continued, voice even.

Napoleon had to redouble his efforts. He quickly shed his shirt and undershirt and wiggled out of his slightly tight pants. He turned around and stuck his ass out slightly, making sure Illya realized the invitation he was receiving.

“Should be simple enough,” Illya continued. Napoleon sighed and looked over his shoulder to see that Illya was still engrossed in his phone call. Clearly he needed to take the final step. He turned around and dropped his underwear, making a motion to his crotch as if to say, “here's my dick.” When that didn't get a response, he was frankly rather insulted.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, so without another moment's hesitation, he climbed into Illya's lap. Napoleon could feel Illya tense somewhat, and that reaction seemed a good sign, but even then he continued his conversation. With a sigh, Napoleon began to really test him – wriggling a little and kissing his cheek and his jaw.

“Ah,” Illya began, his voice finally cracking slightly. Napoleon subtly gyrated his hips and let a little kiss just brush along the corner of Illya's mouth, which was cool and soft, as he found his way to the Russian's man neck.

Napoleon kissed and sucked at Illya's throat and down to his collarbone, feeling his pulse and a slight gulp as he said, “Yes, of course.”

“But--” Illya began, after a pause. Napoleon continued to kiss him and felt him shudder. “Of course.” Finally Illya concluded the call, and Napoleon couldn't help glancing up into his face. It was only when he realized that the Russian looked annoyed, pent up, that he realized that this plan might have some flaws.

“Cowboy!” Illya finally growled. Seemingly in frustration, Illya pushed Napoleon off of him and back onto the couch. But instead of looking angry then, he looked ravenous… and almost before Napoleon realized what was happening, Illya was on him, kissing him hard and passionately.

Napoleon put his arms around Illya and started trying to pull the other man's pants down. He found his hands being batted away as Illya yanked his own pants down, not once breaking their kiss. Soon, his legs were being lifted up slightly as he felt a finger roughly pushing into him.

“Ahh,” he protested slightly and without feeling, to tease Illya more than anything else. “Guess I had that coming though, didn't I?”

Illya snorted a little laugh. “You can take more than that.”

Napoleon bit the Russian's bottom lip playfully. “Just do it then.”

Illya groped around the end table and found the little bottle of personal lubricant he had taken to keeping nearby for just such occasions. “Just terrible,” he muttered, kissing Napoleon once more. But before Napoleon could respond with words, two fingers, now warmed and slick with lube, pushed into him and all he could do was moan loudly. God, he had needed this.

“Fuck,” Illya muttered. “I have to, Cowboy. Are you ready? I need to...”

“I meant when I said to just do it,” Napoleon replied, kissing him. “You made me wait long enough.”

Illya said no more before pushing into him. He went slowly at first, giving Napoleon a chance to adjust and them both to enjoy those first pure moments of the act… when the sensation was so strong and good it was almost overwhelming.

Slowly, Illya began to move, and Napoleon couldn't help but moan. As if spurred on by the sound, Illya thrusted harder and faster and Napoleon held on to him tightly.

“Christ,” he moaned. “Fuck, you're good, Peril!”

Illya moaned as well, and buried his face in the crook of Napoleon's neck and inhaled deeply of his scent. Napoleon loved when Illya did things like that as they fucked… it was so feral, yet also so romantic somehow.

By now Illya had set up a good rhythm, going hard and fast, then pulling out almost completely and going back in teasingly slow. Napoleon could feel the tension releasing all over his body, but also felt his nerves tingle with pleasure and excitement as Illya hit his prostate. It was so good… his Peril was a damned artist.

He let his head drift back and a loud moan escape his mouth as he surrendered to Illya completely. Illya was now fucking him hard and relentless, and sweat glistened on his forehead as the sound of their bodies colliding filled the air. A hand wrapped around Napoleon's leaking cock, which was almost painfully hard and hot from being ignored during their activities, and began to jerk.

“Fuck, Peril,” Napoleon moaned. “Oh… Illya!”

With that, he came all over Illya's hand and his own stomach. The orgasm washed over him in waves – the first so powerful he thought he might black out, the last leaving him slightly dizzy. He remained clenched around Illya as long as he could, determined to set him off.

After a moment, he climaxed as well, and Napoleon watched the pleasure dance across his face. He gave a few more shallow thrusts before collapsing on top of Napoleon, kissing him softly and lazily.

Napoleon wrapped around Illya as best as could, and held him close, because he knew Illya wouldn't admit just how much he liked to be held, and kissed him tenderly. They cuddled quietly for a while, and Napoleon enjoyed the closeness. Eventually Illya had to pull out of him, but he did so gently, and they stayed snuggled close.

“So,” Napoleon finally said, breaking the silence. “You aren't mad at me.”

Illya sighed. “I'm plenty mad. Terrible Cowboy, teasing me when I'm taking important phone call.”

“Oh, that,” Napoleon replied dismissively. “Waverly briefed me on that mission hours ago… I could have filled you in. Isn't as if it's urgent… we have time.”

Illya shook his head. “ _I_ don't. Leaving tonight.”

Napoleon's brows furrowed. “No,” he protested. “Waverly distinctly told me we'd be leaving for Tunisia on Tuesday morning.”

“I have to go tonight,” Illya all but whispered. “Waverly wants me to go ahead first...”

“No,” Napoleon interrupted, a deep frown on his face. “I don't like you going on your own. It's not safe.”

“I'm big boy, Cowboy,” Illya attempted, kissing his cheek softly. “It's a very short time… you don't worry.”

Illya stood up then and offered Napoleon a hand. “Come on. No pouting. We have enough time for bath first.”

Napoleon looked up at him, probably looking sad and sorrier than he meant to, and took his hand. “You had better take care of yourself,” he began. “And if you disable my listening devices...”

Illya shook his head and kissed Napoleon softly. “I tried to get out of this, you know.”

“That's what was so interesting on the phone before?” Napoleon asked. “Well, that makes sense. The only way you could ignore me is if you were fighting to stay with me.”

Illya sighed loudly, but he didn't argue. He simply took Napoleon's hand and said, “Bath time.”


End file.
